What Might Have Been
by HP Slash Luv
Summary: "It may be unfair, but what happens in a few days, sometimes even a single day, can change the course of a whole lifetime." – Khaled Hosseini


**Warnings:** After season 1 AU, slight angst

**Author's Note:** Written for Pride in the Pitts fest and betaed by later2nite. For this story to work, Brian spends 5 out of 7 nights a week at the hospital post bashing, not every night like it's implied in the show. Also, I don't know the normal proceedings at a hospital where a patient is concerned, so don't take my words as truth. You may hate me in the beginning, but things aren't what they appear.

** # #**

Justin was dancing with Daphne. She really did look beautiful. If he wasn't gay, and if they hadn't been best friends since they'd been toddlers, he'd be trying to fuck her right about now.

He was enjoying himself, but it would have been better if Brian was there. Justin knew Daphne could see his misery, so he did his best to put up a good front for her. He didn't want her prom night to be ruined due to her date's apathy. He really could use a smoke, though. He wondered if he would be allowed to get away for a few minutes.

Daphne rolled her eyes at his visible need."Go. One cigarette only, and then you're back in here with me for the rest of the night."

"Yes ma'am."

Justin had a cigarette to his lips, breathing in the fumes. His nerves were shot. Even though Brian had refused to come, part of him still thought that he might show up, just for the heck of it. The longer the night went on, though, the more unlikely the possibility became. Justin felt like it was time to face the facts. The face of god wasn't going to just swoop in and sweep him off of his feet.

He flicked his cigarette to the group, stepping on it as he began to make his way back to the hotel door. He heard some steps behind him, but he ignored them, thinking it was just someone out for a smoke, like he was.

The steps got closer, and just when Justin was about to turn around…

_CRACK!_

Daphne was the one to find him. After Justin had been gone for about 30 minutes, she went searching for him. She let out a piercing scream as she came upon his bloody body. Daphne knelt down, not caring about the blood staining her expensive dress. She called for an ambulance and hugged Justin, feeling his precious life force leaving him the more he bled.

Everything passed in a blur. An ambulance came, and after some fighting, she was allowed to ride in it. She watched through terrified eyes as they worked on Justin on the way to the hospital. Her breath caught in her throat when his heart stopped twice. Through a haze, she managed to give them Jennifer Taylor's phone number. By the time Mrs. Taylor got to the hospital, it was too late. Justin was gone. The damage had been too extensive. Too much blood had been lost.

Funeral arrangements were made. Her parents were worried about her, she knew. She refused to leave her room, spending all of her days leading up to the funeral staring at pictures of Justin and herself during various times of their lives. She was excused from school for the rest of the year.

Her parents told her that Chris Hobbs had been arrested on the charge of murder, but she didn't react. Her best friend was dead; nothing else mattered.

On the day of the funeral, she left her house for the first time since she'd been brought back from the hospital. She had a pit stop to make first, and against her parents' wishes, she made it alone. She pulled up to the converted warehouse, hoping she could get the door open. She doubted the reason she was here would be very accommodating. Luck was on her side, though. As she walked up to the door, a shirtless man was leaving. She grabbed the door so it wouldn't lock.

Daphne took the stairs, not wanting to alert him before she was ready. She banged on the door, but was ignored. She continued to bang, before it was finally wrenched open.

"Mikey! Get the fuck…" He stopped abruptly when he saw her.

"I know you don't want to see me, or anything having to do with Justin. I totally understand, but I need you to come with me. His funeral is today, and I don't think I can do this alone."

Brian's eyes were hard. "You won't be alone. I'm sure your mommy and daddy will be there."

"You're the only one who understands, though."

Brian was silent.

"You're the only one who understands the guilt."

"I don't do guilt."

"Yeah, you do, and so do I."

Brian's eyes shifted away.

"I blame myself for not checking on Justin sooner when he was outside. If I had gotten to him sooner, he may not have lost so much blood. He may have survived." Tears came to her eyes, silently falling.

"It's not your fault." The words were quiet.

"It's not yours, either. There is no guarantee that you being there would have made any difference. Justin wouldn't have wanted you to beat yourself up."

Brian's hands were clenched at his side.

"Please come. For me. For Justin. But mostly, for yourself."

Daphne and Brian held hands as they went into the church. Brian wanted to snort at the irony of someone supposedly going to hell being blessed there, but the squeeze of his hand by the young woman kept him silent.

He saw Mrs. Taylor glaring at him, but he ignored her. Brian didn't need her permission to be there.

For some godforsaken reason, they decided to go with an open casket. His eyes couldn't help but be drawn towards it as the words droned , anyone who wanted to was allowed to head towards the casket to take a look at the young man who'd died before his time. With some gentle prodding from the girl at his side, Brian walked alongside her to the front.

Justin would look as if he were sleeping to anyone who didn't know him well, but Brian did know him. When Justin slept, his nose tended to scrunch up, as if he smelled something foul. There was none of that now.

Brian wanted to clutch the lifeless body to him, not caring who would see him lose control, but it would do no good. Nothing would bring Justin back.

At the gravesite, Brian stoically watched as the casket was lowered. _If only I'd gone to his prom…If only I'd gone to his prom…If only…_ The thought continuously went through his head.

Brian sat straight up in bed, his breathing ragged. He spotted the clock: 2:13 AM. He laid back down, doing everything he could to calm his breathing. It had only been a dream. Justin was very much alive. He had awakened from his coma, and had now been in rehab for almost a month.

No matter what he tried, Brian couldn't forget the dream - and the thought of what might have happened if he hadn't gone that night. He fell into a dreamless sleep.

Brian had never planned to go to the hospital during the day when Justin could be aware of his presence, but as soon as he woke up, he knew this day would be different.

He stepped out of the elevator after minimal hesitation, nodding to the nurse who knew him from some of the nights he'd spent there.

"I'm glad to see you here at a time when the owls aren't out. It's refreshing."

"Yeah. I have some things to tell Justin."

"He's eating lunch right now, so go on in. He has therapy in about an hour, but you're welcome to stay for it. If you do, it may provide some much needed encouragement."

Justin was staring at his lap and Brian was frightened by how despondent he looked. Jennifer Taylor wasn't around. Brian was thankful for that.

"Hey."

Justin's head snapped up so fast that Brian was afraid it would fall off his neck. Justin's eyes, which had been a dull blue, seemed to brighten with Brian's appearance. Justin tried to get up, but Brian rushed to stop him, afraid that the younger man would hurt himself. Brian sat next to the bed while Justin watched him. At one time, the silence between them had been easy and comfortable. It now felt stifling.

"I had a dream last night."

The only sign that Justin was listening was a slight widening of his eyes.

"You died at your prom in my dream. Daphne and I attended your funeral together, although she had to come to the loft and talk some sense into me to get me to even go. Seeing you in that coffin was the most horrible thing, even if it was only in a dream." Brian had to stop as he got choked up.

"How was the dream different from what actually happened?"

Brian chuckled a bit darkly. "You always were a smart little fucker. In the dream, I didn't go." He paused to compose himself. "I know I haven't come to the hospital - at least not when you've been conscious. I couldn't face you. I felt like your being here was my fault and if I hadn't gone to the prom, it would never have happened."

"It's not your fault."

"Justin—"

"No, Brian. Chris Hobbs has had it out for me ever since I gave him a handjob. There's a good chance he would have still bashed me in the head. But you saved me. You called for help. You stopped Chris from swinging the bat at me a second time. You're—"

Brian pressed his mouth to Justin's lightly, keeping the kiss chaste. "That's one way to shut you up. You didn't let me finish before you started your rant. The dream helped me believe that it wasn't my fault, and that the only one to blame is Hobbs - and maybe the school for not punishing him for the minor offenses. I'm not sure if the dream would have become a reality if I'd stayed away, and I don't want to find out." Brian lightly caressed Justin's cheek.

"Does that mean you are going to start visiting?"

"Yes."

"And sleeping?"

"Yes."

"And eating?"

"Yes."

"And fucking?"

"I never stopped."

Justin laughed, but it sounded strained.

"Now, I may actually enjoy it, though." Brian could tell that Justin understood his hidden meaning. _I was using it to forget. _

He sat on the bed, carefully putting his arm around Justin. Justin stiffened, but eventually relaxed into the embrace. Knowing from the doctor that Justin couldn't stand to be touched, Brian counted that as a win.

They spent the time talking before Justin's rehab. Even when Mrs. Taylor came in and tried to burn a hole through Brian, it didn't ruin the moment.

Brian knew the recovery wouldn't be easy. There were still hurdles to get over.

Right now, though, he was just basking in the idea of Justin being alive.


End file.
